


Are You There Julian? It's Me, Mary Crawley

by TheFantomTollbooth



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, Humor, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 13:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14977805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFantomTollbooth/pseuds/TheFantomTollbooth
Summary: Lady Mary is bored, again. Edith is the WORST, again. It's Bates' fault, again. Thomas connives, again. Join us for a dinner, won't you? It's sure to be dysfunctional. If you take this seriously, you're worse than Edith, ugggghh.





	Are You There Julian? It's Me, Mary Crawley

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first Downton Abbey fanfic and I had a lot of fun writing it. I like to play with the characters and their realities so the story changed a bit as I was writing in a direction I didn't think it would, but it all worked out in the end. I owe of a lot of inspiration for this story to my wife. Anyway, without further adieu, enjoy this little jaunt into the Abbey and beyond.

Mary Crawley walked down the grand staircase. Each step more nonchalant than the last as if she were in a competition with herself to see what part of her body could be the most aloof. Lord Grantham and Lady Cora were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. After twenty minutes she met them in the hallway.  
“Ahhhh Mary, how nice of you to join us.” Lord Grantham chirped.  
“Of course it is. A lady is always good company.” Mary quipped.  
“I am coming down too Daddy.” Lady Edith exclaimed from the top of the stairs. She rushed down the staircase like a clown at a debut. All elegance and buffoonery.  
“Uuuugh” Mary rolled her eyes. “Why must SHE be here? Couldn’t we just have a bucket of toast at the table in her stead?” She was holding a bucket filled to the brim with toast.  
“Edith, she does have a point,” Lord Grantham smiled.  
“Where on earth did you get that bucket?” Lady Cora asked.  
“Preparedness is essential to accentuate one’s status and one’s ire.” Mary said smugly.  
“How right you are, Mary. But let us not lose our couth to make a point and dull ourselves in the process.” It was the Dowager Countess.  
“Grandmama, how lovely to see you,” Mary beamed.  
“I am still joining you for dinner,” Edith whined.  
“‘I am still joining you for dinner.’ You sound like Thomas after being spurned by a potential suitor he knew was not gay. Isn’t that right, Thomas?”  
“Yes M’lady. That was quite the zinger.” Thomas glowered. Bates would pay for Lady Mary’s insolence.  
They walked into the dining room and took their chairs. Carson watched as tray after tray proceeded into the dining room and was set before each guest. Besides the five of them, they were joined by their Tom Branson, the ghost of Kamal Pamuk, Lady Isobel, star of stage and screen Shirley MacLaine, that and that annoying teacher friend of Branson’s.  
“Why isn’t this just lovely, tell Mrs. Patmore that she has really outdone herself,” Lady Cora exclaimed.  
“I helped with a lot of the cooking too,” Daisy cried out, from the downstairs in the kitchen.  
“Is everyone going to cry for credit in this household?” Mary exclaimed. “Yes, Peggy, you helped too, now please refrain from ever speaking again.”  
“It’s Daisy, m’lady!”  
“YOUR NAME is what I say it is! Carson, please handle this accordingly.”  
“Of course, Lady Mary. You are most wise and beautiful as well,” the butler stated. His reached for his sidearm and exited the room.  
“Oh Carson, your misguided faith in me is charming and a tad unnerving, even for me,” Mary laughed.  
“Thanks for acknowledging me before my untimely death, m’lady!” Daisy shouted. There was a single shot, and then quiet.  
“Well that seems a bit excessive,” Isobel Crawley was shocked.  
“Was it Isobel? I think I it was an act of mercy. Just think of all the unnecessary dialogue that would escape that poor young woman’s throat.” Mary responded in a huff.  
“Well stated, Mary. Now let’s eat!” Lord Grantham said cheerily.  
“Mama, I do find Mary’s behavior appalling. Doesn’t anyone else find her to be cold, heartless, and just unnecessarily cruel?” Edith beseeched her mother.  
“No, they do not, you wet noodle on pudding,” Mary retorted. “Why do you talk when it is clear to everyone around you that you are just a sad sandwich of loneliness, fear, and cabbage. It is no wonder that any man who ever loved you, did so because they wanted to be closer to me or they were working out unresolved issues with grief mimes.”  
“Edith, I must say that your outburst is most unbecoming of a lady. Apologize to you sister, who has so graciously had you sit at the table instead of gnawing on day old crumpets in your assigned corner,” Lady Cora admonished.  
“While my upscale side of me agrees with Lady Mary, my leftist side does believe you may be taking things to far,” Branson chimed in.  
“Speaking from an unreasonable leftist side, I think that Edith should have the same rights as anyone at this table and perhaps even more so,” Branson’s annoying teacher friend added.  
“I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE!” Lord Grantham screamed. “I do not like this annoying friend of yours and will think the exact opposite of pretty much anything that comes out of her mouth just to prove how much I do not like her.”  
“Oh Papa. She is just a one-dimensional character used to act as a foil for Branson’s past. No offence Branson, but you really haven’t done much besides marry my sister, and that didn’t last long. Is it too soon for me to say that? Well, no matter, Branson we like you. Annoying friend of Branson, I shall call you ‘Better Edith’, you humor me and I do enjoy Papa’s unnecessary indignation with you.”  
“Well, all of you know how to make an American feel right at home. I am delighted with this saucy banter,” Shirley MacLaine mused.  
“Oh hush, Shirley, you are no me,” the Dowager Countess quipped.  
“Well, I will not apologize to any of you. I am better than all of you.” Edith yelled. “I have my own business and represent a modern woman more than Mary ever will. What is so good about Mary anyway? She has slept with every man that has introduced themselves to her, has no idea where her children are, oh excuse me, I mean ‘orphans’ as she calls them and has the personality of a sloth on opium.”  
“Why Edith, if I did have a soul, I would say that wounded me,” Mary replied. “Fortunately, I drink the tears of the residents that Anna brings me from the village. Isn’t that right, Anna?”  
“Yes, m’lady,” Anna appeared. She didn’t know why, but deep inside she knew that Mr. Bates would end up paying for Lady Mary’s revelation.  
“Well that sounds delicious, Mary, and so civic-minded too. How wonderful for you to take part in the community.” Lady Cora beamed.  
“How is that wonderful?” Edith screamed. “She just admitted to being some sort of misery vampire, not to mention that she just had Daisy killed!”  
“Peggy,” Lady Cora corrected.  
“What?” Edith exasperated.  
“It’s Peggy. She had Peggy killed. Mary changed her name. Let’s use people’s names correctly, to not do so would be so middle-class,” Lady Cora cajoled.  
“All of you are sick and if I wasn’t so desperate for love and attention, I would leave right now. Alas, my self-esteem being in this family and watching a bored manic depressive receive all the accolades has taken a toll on me.”  
“You, you, you. That’s all we ever hear. I mean how selfish you are Edith? Think for once of other people who want to hear ME speak and how you are depriving them by speaking reasonably. Our dear guests squirming in their chairs listening to that pterodactyl-pitched voice of yours.”  
“Lady Mary, I think your behavior is most unbecoming!” Isobel exclaimed. “Why I was talking with my husband Dr. Clarkson just the other day, that you are quite rude.”  
“Don’t you mean your husband, Richard Grey?” Mary corrected.  
“What did I say?” Isobel was confused.  
“You said, Dr. Clarkson.”  
“Well of course I meant my husband, Dr. Clarkson…umm I mean, what was his name again…Green? Amber? It’s a color, right? I want to say Puce, but that doesn’t seem right,” Isobel faltered.  
“It is Lord Merton and I am right here next to you, Isobel!” Richard Grey injected. The dinner party looked aghast finding out that there was another member at the table.  
“Oh yes, you. You know you make it very hard to remember your name when I spend most of this show having a growing relationship with a person, and then you swoop in with zero chemistry with me and I marry you.”  
“I am sorry for that, my person of interest. I cannot help but be the one-dimensional character that I was destined to be. Why, I was just chatting with the ghost of Pamuk and find him more fleshed out than me. Ironic, don’t you think?” Lord Merton mused.  
“Boring!” Mary exclaimed. “Nobody cares about your loves, when they can see the rich majesty of the men that I have been with and spurred for no good reason. There have been countless episodes just wasted on whether I would pick Bore #1 or Snoozefest #2, and everyone was riveted yet for some reason every once in awhile we had to talk about Bates being in jail.”  
“I’m still here, m’lady!” Bates shouted from the servants’ hall.  
“Give it time, Bates.” Mary responded.  
In his room, Thomas glowered. Bates would pay for his word usage. Thomas was most certain of that.  
Mosley entered the dining room and walked over to Lady Mary.  
“Excu…umm...pack...you see...I…there…oh boy” Molesley stuttered.  
“What is this crazy man doing in our dining room?” Mary was aghast.  
“I am so sorry, Ma’am. I speak his language.” Baxter stated as she ran up to the Molesley. “He said you have received a package, and it is in the foyer.”  
“Wonderful. Thank you, kind, stuttering, foolish commoner, you service is quite forgettable.”  
“Yes…erm, oh…think…say…perfect…pay…Baaaaa,” Molesley sputtered.  
“He says ‘thank you m’lady, your attention to me is like the sun after a rainstorm. Oh, and that Bates will pay for his insignificance in your presence’.” Baxter translated. She took Molesley’s hand and guided them out of the room.  
“Such a cute couple that I don’t care about.” Mary sighed.  
Carson entered the room again. “M’lord, Mr. Julian Fellowes is here to see you.”  
“No need to be so formal, Jim, I just…wanted…to…” Julian stopped as he took in the scene. “What is going on here?”  
“Whatever do you mean, Mr. Fellowes, is it?” Mary asked like a fox waiting to spring upon the chickens.  
“Michelle, we stopped filming years ago. The show ended. I was just coming here to gloat on what a genius show I created.” Julian cried.  
“As you can see Mr. Fellowes, we are just a typical family in the 1920s, sitting down for a lovely dinner and focusing on their most incredible daughter and her fascinating adventures.”  
“Please…Julian, call the cops. She has kidnapped all of us and forced us to play this deranged façade,” Shirley MacLaine pleaded.  
“Carson, can you please take the appropriate course of action.” Mary said exasperatedly.  
“Of course, M’lady. Your wisdom in matters over life and death are without question and without mercy.” Carson groveled.  
“Oh Carson, you know me so well,” Mary giggled.

“I will return, you hear me. I believe in reincarnation.” Shirley stood up. “I will be back in Upton Funk, the wonderful story of a London Disco magnate and his family as they share in the changing times in the 1980’s as punk, rap, and pop are becoming the more prevalent music style.”  
“Does this show have me in it?” Michelle asked.  
“No.” Shirley said icily.  
“Carry on, Carson.” Michelle dismissed.  
Carson escorted Shirley MacLaine out of the room. A single shot was heard.  
“You just killed Shirley MacLaine!!” Julian screamed. “This has got to stop. Michelle, you need help.”  
“Death was a part of life at the turn of the 20th century. Look at poor Sybil, or that blond fellow that Peggy married, or even my first husband, whose name escapes me. Was it Sackle? Froppencely? No matter, his death made me more well-rounded and made people realize that I look fantastic while mopey.”  
“Those were characters and while each of those death scenes were impeccably written, they are not real. And your first husband was Matthew. Matthew, you idiot!” Julian screamed. “You spent two seasons pining for him before marrying and having his child before he died because he had an aversion to driving while happy. He was the only reason you didn’t seem like a total sociopath.”  
“I am NOT a sociopath!” Michelle screamed. “How come every time someone kidnaps a bunch of actors and crew and forces them to act out the breakout show of her career, they call that sociopathy? It is an homage…to me!!”  
“Michelle, you were an important part of the show, but each storyline was meticulously created to capture life in the early 20th century, and completely necessary to show the genius of my writing. If anything, you are doing on homage to ME!” Julian retorted. He paused in a moment of reflection. “And you know what, I love it! I mean it’s a bit excessive, but so is my genius. Oh Michelle, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me!”  
“THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU! THIS IS ABOUT ME! ME! ME!” Michelle shrieked.  
“Is anyone concerned about the two dead bodies?” Edith asked.  
“No, you stupid, insipid…” Michelle started.  
“Oh, please Michelle, I hate to interrupt, but I did love writing these insults. May I?” Julian pleaded.  
“Oh, but of course.” Michelle said mischievously.  
“Thank you, Michelle.” Julian smiled. “Edith you are just a sad puppet...oh did you already use a ‘sad’ insult?”  
“Yes, I did.” Michelle crossed her arms.  
“Oh, I got it.” Julian laughed. “Edith, are an empty husk of broken dreams whose only happiness is playing the worst game of hide and seek with your own child and whose future is as bleak as a nuclear winter in summer.”  
“But…but I was successful at the end of the show,” Edith stammered. “I had my own company. I was the epitome of a modern woman.”  
“Yes, but in my sequel, ‘The Revenge of Downton’ you do not fair as well.” Julian quipped.  
“Am I in it?” Michelle inquired.  
“Of course, Michelle. You are the star.” Julian gushed. “You have showed me that the show is truly about you and your boorish attitude.”  
“Excuse me, Julian, can I bring Paddington?” Hugh Bonneville requested.  
“I don’t see why not.” Julian cajoled. “I put Paul Giamatti in the 5th season because I actually thought he was John Adams, the American president. It wasn’t until mid-season that I realized he wasn’t, but I kept him in anyway because I owed him $500 for a set of false teeth he whittled for me.”  
Suddenly, two police officers burst into the dining room.  
“Ok, there are two dead bodies in the kitchen!” the inspector yelled. “No one is going anywhere until we find out who did this!”  
“Oh, pooh. I was just starting to enjoy this dinner.” Michelle pouted.  
“Excuse me officers. Can we go now? This is also a bit of a hostage situation. We are held against our will!” Laura Carmichael begged.  
“Must you throw yourself at every man, Edith?” Michelle said sarcastically. “You are like school on a Sunday. No class.”  
“My name is Laura Carmichael!” She yelled. “And really, Michelle, a Fat Albert joke? How droll.”  
“It’s exhausting come up with unnecessary insults, Edith, but it’s worth it.”  
The other officer ran into the room.  
“I believe that the crime has been solved, sir.” The officer stated.  
“Really? Wow that was fast. What is the story?” the inspector inquired.  
“We found over 10 post-it notes in several different handwriting styles on the bodies that say, ‘Bates did this, signed Bates’. It’s pretty iron-clad.”  
“Excuse me, sir, I think you missed a post-it.” Rob James-Collier interjected as he handed the officer a post-it note.  
“It says ‘Anna did this too, signed Bates’. Well this story checks out.” The lead inspector smiled.  
Brendan Coyle rushed in the room. “Oh my god, thank god you are here, officers!”  
“I am afraid the jig is up, Coyle. Or should I say, Bates” the inspector said smugly.  
“What are you talking about? I had nothing to do with this!” Brendan exclaimed.  
“The evidence speaks for itself. Time for jail, Mr. Bates. And this time, you won’t get out for Christmas. You too, Anna. You can wrap up your storylines in the big house. As for everyone else, you are all free to go.” The inspector declared.  
“I am innocent! Come on, Hugh, tell them! Please!!” Bates beseeched.  
Hugh Bonneville was distracted having a pretend discussion with the Paddington bear on his lap.  
“What?” he looked up with innocent glee. “Oh yes, he is innocent. I mean he killed before, and we suspected him several times, but I am sure he is ok.”  
The officers handcuffed Joanne Froggatt and Brendan Coyle and started to march them out of the dining room.  
“Excuse me, officers, but do you mind if we take a film crew to the prison?” Julian said with a dash of glee in his eyes. “I just came up with the most wonderful idea about Bates and Anna in prison and they must try to escape, only to end in up in other prisons and have to escape them too. I call it ‘Downton Prison Break.’” he said dreamily as he spread his arms wide picturing it in his mind.  
“I don’t see why not.” The inspector shrugged.  
“Wasn’t that already a show on Fox?” Maggie Smith challenged.  
“Sure, but this will have even more prisons and a plausible plot.” Julian retorted.  
“Will we get paid?” Brendan Coyle asked  
“You will be paid in cigarettes and blood pudding, but you also might get shived, so it all works out in the end. This is going to be incredible!” Julian screamed with joy.  
“But what about my role in your new show?” Michelle wined.  
“My dear, that is no longer an option. I am afraid my muse is a fickle mistress. I must go where my genius takes me.” Julian apologized.  
“I hope your genius takes you in front of a speeding turnip truck.” Michelle muttered.  
“Well, I have worked in worse conditions, so you can count me in.” Brendan stated with enthusiasm.  
“Me too,” Joanne chimed in.  
“Wonderful Anna and Bates!” Julian exclaimed.  
“Can you call me Brendan?”  
“No, I have already drawn up the paperwork to officially change your names to Anna Bates and you will just be called Bates. I have also created written confessions to every crime from here to Yorkshire, just to make sure we have several seasons worth of work.” Julian confirmed.  
“Ok, now that we have our shows in order, can we take the criminals away?” The lead inspector inquired.  
“By all means officers.” Julian smiled “And just remember Bates, just because you are serving a life sentence doesn’t mean your life has reached its period. Oh Julian, you did it again! I think that will be the tagline for the show!”  
“By the way, officers, I don’t believe we got your names.” Michelle inquired.  
“The name is DCI Barnaby. Come on DS Jones, we got to get back to Midsomer. I am sure there is some special event that has gone horribly wrong.” He declared as walked out the door with his convicts.  
“Well, this was indeed, a lovely evening.” Elizabeth McGovern grinned.  
“This was a horrible evening. How can you say such a thing? Two people have died. We have been forced to reenact a dead show. How is that lovely?!” Laura Carmichael wailed.  
“My mouth is stuck in this smile position, well, that and the Quaaludes I have been popping, so I cannot say anything but positive things even in the face of danger to myself and others,” Elizabeth chirped trying to look sad, but only made her smile brighter.  
“Well, I guess it is time for me to move on.” Michelle mused. “Perhaps I did go too far, perhaps my character was one-dimensional and boorish and only seemed fleshed out by the one character they had to kill off in the stupidest of ways, so he could do a superhero show that nobody understands.”  
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Michelle. Despite being mean to me on and off camera, kidnapping me, calling me up in the middle of the night with threats, poisoning my koi pond, and officially renaming my children, I think we have a lot in common.” Laura Carmichael comforted Michelle.  
“I still hate you.” Michelle quipped  
“As I do you.” Laura kissed her on the forehead. “Alright folks, let’s move this party to my place. I have built replicas of Westros castles in my backyard. We don’t even have to change costumes.”  
Maggie Smith got up from the table and held onto Penelope Winton’s arm.  
“You know,” Maggie spoke in a hushed tone. “This happened to me after the Potter film finished. Rickman couldn’t let it go and made us take his ‘Dark Arts’ class. To this day, I can’t take a film with too many dramatic pauses.”  
“Well I found this refreshing. Matter of fact, it has inspired me to do this sort of thing with the ‘Shawn of the Dead’ crew,” Penelope mused.  
And with that, the two ladies walked out of Downton and into the sunset.  
One by one, they dispersed, until it was Lady Mary alone, sitting at the grand table. She was despondent as she toyed with her food.  
“I am all alone.” Michelle said to no one.  
“I am still here.” Jim Carter suddenly appeared at the door to thex dining room.  
“Cars…I mean Jim, you came back!” Michelle declared with glee.  
“Of course, I did M’Lady. I will always come back for you.” Jim Carter said with the slight smile.  
“But why? After all I did to you and the rest of the cast,” Michelle sputtered.  
“My dear Michelle, I am a method actor, and when I said my lines regarding my undying allegiance to you, I was speaking the truth. I am truly your servant.”  
“Are you saying what I think you are saying?” Michelle pried.  
“Yes, Michelle, if you will have me, I would love to be your butler. And please call me Carson.”  
“Oh Carson, you have made the happiest actress this side of North Hampshire,” Michelle elated.  
“I have already told my wife to join us, and she is already in costume,” Carson rang a small bell.  
“Mrs. Hughes at your service,” Imelda Staunton intoned. “I too have a sister that no one has known about for twenty-five years and have hidden her somewhere in this house!”  
“I don’t know what to say,” Michelle said with her mouth agape. “I adore your dedication to me, so yes, I would love to have you both as my butler and housekeeper.”  
“Thank you M’Lady,” Carson and Hughes chimed together.  
“Carson, Hughes, I think that this is the beginning to a beautiful employer and beleaguered employee relationship,” Michelle gushed.  
And with that, Michelle retired to her bedroom with the ghost of Pamuk. Lady Mary was happy at last.


End file.
